


Wayward Home Renovations

by ptbvisiongrrl



Series: Home for Wayward Children [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 17:36:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12687003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ptbvisiongrrl/pseuds/ptbvisiongrrl
Summary: One-shot sequel to Home for Wayward Children. The kids (and Sam, and Jody, and Claire, and Cas) show Dean just how much they appreciate him and everything he does for them.





	Wayward Home Renovations

FIC TITLE: Wayward Home Renovations  
Author- PTBvisiongrrl  
Part- 1/1  
Date- 11/10/17  
Rating – PG-13/T  
Pairings/Characters- Sam/Dean brother bond; Dean/Castiel romantic relationship  
Word Count- 6,626  
Genre- Angst, Family  
Warnings- Spoilers- One-shot sequel to my Home for Wayward Children.  
Disclaimers- Unfortunately, I don’t own any of these characters, and make absolutely no profit from taking them out to play…so please don’t sue me. If I did own them, there would be a lot more shirtless Winchesters and Angels of the Lord getting some on the show!  
Summary- One-shot sequel to Home for Wayward Children. The kids (and Sam, and Jody, and Claire, and Cas) who Dean just how much they appreciate him and everything he does for them. 

 

It had taken a lot of subterfuge, secret planning and an act of Chuck, but Colton, Cas, and Sam had finally managed to get Dean out of the Bunker for a few days so that they could implement their “surprise” for him. 

“Are you sure, Sam?” Dean asked again, adjusting his duffle bag on his shoulder and looking unsure. “I mean, two sick little kids, all by yourself, and the other three…”

Sam put on his best bitch face. “Are you saying you don’t trust me to hold it together for a few days? Or that you don’t think I can do it but you don’t want to say it out loud?”

Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose like he was in pain. “No, Sam. I do not doubt your ability to do this. I’ve just done the chicken pox nursing duty before, and that was just for you. You’ve got two, possibly three. It’s not going to be a walk in the park.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam grumbled. “But Cas can’t stay here. We don’t know if Jimmy ever had chicken pox, let alone if a fallen angel would still be immune. Do you want to send him into exile on his own for a week?” It was a dirty play, to make Dean feel guilty over Cas, but Cas had agreed it was the only way to get Dean to leave and let Sam and Colton work on Dean’s surprise. They three of them had been planning it for almost six months, held back only by the need for a plausible reason for Dean to leave. 

True to his word, Dean had not gone on a hunt in the slightly more than a year since the children had come to live in the Bunker with them. He still didn’t feel things were under control enough, money-wise, to splurge on a honeymoon, which had been the best idea the plotters had come up with—so this golden opportunity could not be passed up. The only unfortunate part was that Cas wouldn’t be available to help with the hard labor.

Cas entered the Bunker’s doorway, but stayed at the top of the steps. “Dean? I do not want to itch like poor little Jerry. Can we please leave?”

Looking up at Cas’s hopeful face, unable to disappoint or risk his husband, Dean conceded. “Yeah, Cas. Coming out now.” He turned back to Sam before ascending the steps. “But you better check in twice a day to let me know how Jer’s doing, and if the little one’s okay. Got it?”

Internally relieved, Sam concentrated on looking and sounding annoyed. “Yeah, I got it. Get out of here.”

Dean shook his head and took a deep breath before jogging up the stairs to meet Cas and get out of the Plague House before Cas got infected. Cas let Dean lead the way, flashing Sam a thumb’s up behind Dean’s back on their way out. 

S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D…

Sam immediately made his way to Jerry’s room, where Rose was sitting with both boys, watching a movie on Sam’s laptop. “How ya feeling, Jerry?” Sam asked, settling on the bed next to them to feel Jerry’s forehead. 

Jerry scrunched up his face (Dean had previously pointed out that Jerry shared Sam’s talent for bitch-face) and whimpered. “Hot. Itchy.” He held up his hands, which were encased in mittens. “Want off!”

Rose booped Jerry’s nose. “You agree to wear them so that I don’t have to smack your hand for scratching. Would you rather the smacks when you forget?”

Sam looked a little alarmed, but Rose smiled at him. “It was just twice, and not hard. I was just reminding him, again, since telling him about a hundred times didn’t work.”

Jerry pouted. “Itches.”

“Well, you can soak in the tub in an oatmeal bath, if you want,” Sam offered. 

The reaction to “bath” was immediate. “NO!”

Rose sighed and hugged Jerry close. “So mittens it is then.”

Sam leaned his broad forehead against Jerry’s tiny one. “I had ‘em before, too, Jerry. I know it feels miserable. But Dean made sure we had lots of jello and chicken soup before he left. If you can go an hour without scratching, I’ll put whipped cream and a cherry on the Jell-O for you. How’s that sound?”

As tempting as the offer was, it did not bring out the sunnier side of the little boy’s personality as Sam had hoped. Jerry muttered “’kay,” and frowned, snuggling deeper into Rose’s side. “How’s Petie?”

“Still no spots, and not a bit cranky,” Rose reported. “I got this. You and Colt need to get started. I don’t believe Dean will really stay away for more than a couple days, and you guys have a ton of work to do.”

Sam agreed. Replacing the kitchen was going to take almost a week of really long days—and that is if he and Colton manage to do it without making any major mistakes. Given that neither of them had done this before, mistakes were pretty much a given. But at least as long as most of the work was done before Dean and Cas came home, Dean would still be surprised. And hopefully happy, even if Sam and Colton were messing with his precious kitchen.

S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D…

Sam pulled the rented truck into the restaurant store parking lot, following Colton’s directions. Colton usually did supply runs to here with Dean, which is how Colton even knew about the place, much less the items in here that Dean practically salivated over for his dream kitchen. “Are you really sure this is a good idea, Colton? I mean, you and I are pretty good at figuring things out, but this is replacing an entire kitchen by ourselves.”

Colton sighed. “Yes, Sam, for the millionth time. When my dad and uncle weren’t hunting, they were contractors. I started helping them before I was in double digits. And I’ve been checking out everything online, watching You Tube videos and talking to the guys at Home Depot, ever since I thought of this last spring. I did floor plans and diagrams and budgets and everything. It’s all here in this notebook—“ Colton waved an old fashioned marble notebook. “We can do this, with Morgan, Claire, and Jody’s help—as long as we can get the appliances and supplies into the Bunker ourselves.”

Sam still looked unsure, so Colton pushed. He said, “We need a bigger, better kitchen, and Dean is the one who does most of the cooking. I’ve been saving up my pool winnings for months, Morgan her poker winnings, too, and we have enough for a lot of this in cash. Charlie said the web business was doing well enough to afford the rest of it without putting a lot on credit. I mean, Dean refuses to take a god damn honeymoon we can actually afford, despite him refusing to see that… I just really want to do this for Dean. Don’t you?” Colton didn’t wait for Sam’s acquiescence before jumping out of the truck and slamming the door shut.

S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D…

The back of the rented truck wasn’t packed, but damn was it heavy driving. There was an industrial eight-burner stove, with a range hood and two ovens; a glass-front double-door refrigerator; and a two-door stainless steel freezer. The workers at the store had been quite thrilled to get rid of the harder-to-sell scratch-and-dent items with a single large purchase, and happily helped load the truck. After it was unloaded into the Bunker’s garage, Sam and Dean would head out again for the Home Depot items—cabinets, new sink and counters, two dishwashers (cheaper than one industrial machine), and new ceramic tile for the floor.  
Jody, Clair, and Morgan helped unload the truck, with hand trucks and ramps and a lot of swearing. One smack to the back of the head and an exclamation of “Idjit!” from Jody after saying no to their offer of help had quickly changed Colton’s mind. It took a little over an hour. Fridge and freezer were first, quickly plugged in to cool down and stayed in the garage until the kitchen itself was usable. Then the women headed off to gather everything from the old fridge and freezer and shift to the new while the men headed out to Home Depot.  
Sam was surer of what they were doing once at Home Depot. Colton’s list had the measurements and materials, even down to the light fixtures and switches. Sam was hardly more than a Step-and-Fetch-It at that point, which he faithfully did but also freely admitted it took him longer to find the right items than it would have taken Colton—who was busy loading up the new granite counter top and sturdy cabinets, having already placed the order for them online last night. Luckily Dean’s tastes weren’t too fancy, so the cabinets and counter tops were in stock, and the counter top could be cut to order and picked up the next day, as soon as everything else was in place and the pipes positioned. The granite was a beautiful black with silver and copper running through it, which blended with the stainless steel sink and appliances, as well as the cherry wood cabinets and stainless handles. New tiles were a light gray that went well with the silver elements, and the paint was a soft dove gray. Fixtures were brushed nickel, and the ceiling fan for over the table was the same cherry red as the cabinets. All of it went on a brand-new Home Depot Card in the Winchester business’s name, signed for by Sam with only mild hesitation once he saw the total.  
The women were already hard at work packing up the cabinets in the kitchen when the men returned and unloaded the truck. Colton and Sam opened up and laid out all the cabinets; the ladies could assemble them while the men started hauling old appliances out and loading up the truck for a visit to the dump. The items loaded on the truck were just too old to resell, or reuse in another part of the bunker. Rosie had already claimed some cabinets for the laundry room and her crafting room; Sam figured the old refrigerator/freezer could be put into the garage as a back-up for over-flow (Dean cooked ahead a lot), or beverage storage. 

It certainly could hold a couple cases of beer, if that’s all there was in it. 

The point of the remodel was to make the kitchen more modern, easier to use—but also a place Dean enjoyed. The bunker had so much space that each of the children could pretty much have two rooms to themselves, if they really wanted it. Rose had a room to craft in, because she was a serious crafter, and had even begun to sell some items online on Etsy. Colt preferred a stall of his own in the garage, rather than an actual room. Morgan had no need for an extra room, but spruced her bedroom up more than the other kids. As for the little boys, they now had an entire playroom of their own, not just a corner in their bedrooms. 

Sam had even set up another room like a family room, complete with a huge cushiony, sectional couch, a big screen TV, DVD player, Netflix, and an Xbox. It was next to the kitchen, so that Dean could keep a closer eye on children if need be, and they could be occupied. 

Dean, though, had never really spread out beyond his room (now shared with Cas) at all. The entire Bunker, Dean reasoned, was his. So he took care of it all, and all the people he was responsible for, and that made him happy. That was enough for Dean. 

The children, however, wanted Dean to know how much they appreciated him. Dean kept everyone on task, on schedule, clean, and fed. And he did it without making it look like a lot of work. Dean didn’t accept gifts well, though, and that’s why Morgan and Colton thought a new kitchen was the best gift possible. Dean would use it every day, and probably appreciate just how much easier modernity was, even if he never said a word about it. 

S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D…

Day Two of renovations went well—lots of hours of hard work, more than Sam thought it should take but within Colt’s expectations. Tiles had been scraped off the walls and floors, and adhesive sanded down. The floor was sound under the tiles, though not very level. There was a gentle sloping to the corner, where the drain was, which required a bit more work to even off. The floor had been prepared for tiling tomorrow. The walls were lined with new dry wall, which had already been seamed and spackled, and would be ready to be painted tomorrow. 

Dean, however, was not happy when he called to check in because Sam had failed to call that morning, and Sam did not answer immediately. In Sam’s defense, they were using a sander at the time and he did not hear the phone. But when he got to it a half-hour later, there were already six messages of growing concern, until the last one, which said: Fuck it. If you aren’t answering, I’m coming home to check on you.

While Cas was supposed to be in on this, and keep Dean away, Sam wasn’t sure he’d be able to do it. So Sam called as quickly as possible, catching Dean as he was getting into Baby. After a stream of curses, Sam played off not answering as a result of taking a nap. All’s well. Dean was still dickish about it, but at least Sam could hear him go back into the hotel room, and then Cas speaking in the background.

S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D…

Day Three was the hardest day yet. Sam was a tall man. He could easily paint the top of the walls and ceilings, hold cabinets up to studs for nailing in, but tiling on the floor, crouching his large frame down, was painful after just an hour, even with knee pads. Colton was outpacing him for laying tiles as well, laying 3 to every 1 Sam managed to put down. Between the two of them, the kitchen walls had two coats of paint, and the tiles were curing. 

The women had spent their time sorting through all the packed boxes, getting rid of chipped dish- and glass- ware, counting items to see what they were short of for completing 20 places settings. Twenty would allow them to have a meal’s worth of dishes in the washer and still be able to eat another meal before running out of clean dishes, even if there were a couple guests. Given how old the dishes and such were, Jodi was impressed that they could actually put together 30 places settings and three sets of serving dishes, including proper flatware. 

It was a Bunker, after all, and when it had been built, they expected to hold meetings and meals for large groups. 

But all the broken, chipped, and cracked items were tossed, and the extra carefully boxed up, labeled, and moved into storage for when they would be needed to replace the items that would surely be broken along the way. 

S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D…

Day Four was grout. Grout required 24 hours to dry, and since Colt and Sam wanted to get in as much work time as possible, they decided to do it first thing in the morning and then work on putting the old cabinets into the laundry room, to hold supplies, and the crafting ones into Rosie’s work room. It got the old cabinets out of the way, and gave Rosie and the boys something to organize while the rest of them worked in the kitchen. At this point, Jerry’s spots were itching less and his fever had dropped, and the baby hadn’t developed anything recognizable as chicken pox symptoms, so Rosie was happy for the distraction. 

Day Five was installing all the cabinets. It took all day and every one. 

Day Six was counters and moving in appliances. Day Six almost didn’t happen. Cas was fine, Jerry was recovering, and no one else had caught the plague. Sam and the kids had to persuade Cas and Dean to take a couple days entirely worry-free to themselves, a mini-vacation. 

Day Seven was cleaning and organizing, and putting everything back. A huge whiteboard was hung up on one wall, and Rosie went to town putting up calendars and dinner schedules and pictures of everyone in magnetic frames. 

Day Eight was shopping for the little things they hadn’t thought about. New kitchen linens, in super hero and Star Wars motifs. New dish rack, for the hand washables. A collection of new, geeky coffee mugs. Two cookie jars, one a beehive with a bee on top and one a Storm Trooper helmet. A new set of good stainless steel pots, new set of knives and cooking/serving implements, and a built-in lazy Susan herb cabinet. An island had been built for food prep to match the new cabinets, with a bookshelf on the end for cookbooks and appliances neatly stored in shallow cabinets for easy access. There were the usual appliances--stand mixer, microwave, toaster oven, juicer, etc.—plus four huge Crock Pots and two electric, partitioned buffet warming stations. A long narrow table below the white board functioned as a “buffet all,” with the left hand size holding the main set of dishes in stacks and large cups holding silver ware for eating. A large basket at the end held an assortment of simple cork and wood trivets, and another held placemats and napkins. There was even a large marble cutting board that would fit in the freezer to chill it for rolling out pastry and other baked goods. 

Everything that Dean used or expressed a need for was purchased, or the old one was held onto but with a note attached stating, “to be replaced.” All was laid out to Dean’s expressed desires, gathered over months of subtle questioning and mentioning things from Pinterest. In addition, supernatural protections were layered about as well, unseen without special vision spells—wards against fires, floods, and mundane mishaps, like breaking dishes or burning dinner. Rosie had bespelled a pair of Dean’s sunglasses so that they could show him the wards as well. 

Day Nine was hectic. Dean and Cas were coming home in time for dinner. Colt straightened up the garage, filled the fridge with beer, and tossed a huge car cover over the old monstrosity, hoping to distract Dean enough to not give away the surprise early. Because they were going to be in time for dinner, and the extra help needed to be fed as well, Sam decided to pop in a couple frozen lasagnas. He planned to get some fresh loaves of bread to make into garlic bread, a huge salad, and apple pies for dessert so that the husbands could be greeted with the kitchen in full use already and see how well it fit their family. 

Dinner would also require regular grocery shopping, however. During renovations, dinner had pretty much been ordered pizza, fries, and wings; lunch was deli meat sandwiches and chips; and breakfast had been Pop Tarts or cereal all around. So, there were some supplies that needed to be re-upped before Dean went into a tizzy. Luckily, Dean kept very well organized shopping lists of regular items, recording how much they had and how much they used in a week, and he had trained everyone to keep up with them when they cooked or used supplies. It was one of the ways Dean had kept everyone’s life moving smoothly. If you used his system, you never ran out of deodorant or personal products, there was always bread on hand, and they always had eggs and milk in the fridge. 

Looking at the massive lists—Dean had not been able to do the regular shopping before he left, and now it was a week and a half later—and his watch, Sam decided to delegate. Shopping was a cash-only excursion, ever, because Dean didn’t want to burn the local Wal-Mart off the list of where they could safely go shopping, so Sam needed to have an idea of how much to bring. He consulted Dean’s helpers, and was amazed at what Morgan and Colt explained.

Cue Dean’s preparedness. Sam had never looked close enough to notice, but in a tiny font, next to each item on the list, the items’ usual price range was shown and a box. Some of the items had checks next to them, some had xs, and some were blank. Morgan explained that a check meant Dean had a coupon for it in his coupon organizer, which was now hanging up on the new freezer next to the lists. An X meant that it was a paperless coupon this week. Blank meant there was no savings on it. 

Dean had further refined the list—by Walmart aisle. (Now Dean’s cursing about ‘re-arranging the store AGAIN’ after a shopping trip made a lot more sense.) Jerry added the explanation that the list was Mission Orders, and that he and Dean followed it and timed it every shopping trip to see if they could improve their performance. Sam reflected that he was going to have to accompany Dean and Jerry on one of these trips. While Sam decided he and Jody were the best two to go shopping, they each took a vehicle to have enough room, and left the children to straighten up the rest of the bunker. 

Sam spent a lot of the driving and shopping time pondering his big brother, and recalling things Jerry had told him and that Sam himself had seen or heard Jerry and Dean doing together. Sam loved Dean with his whole heart, and knew that despite everything they had gone through, Dean loved him right back, even though neither of them ever said it in words. Dean rarely said it to anyone in words, although he was better at telling the little ones. It was always said through his actions. 

Sam realized that Dean was teaching Jerry some really valuable skills, in a way he would remember. Whenever Dean did maintenance on Baby, he would explain each step to Jerry, even though Jerry wasn’t big enough to do much of the actual work. Jerry would be able to take care of Baby (or any other old car) one day. And he thought about how when Dean and Jerry folded towels, when it was their turn to fold, Dean used folding in half and quarters to teach fractions. And how, when cooking, to double up a recipe for more people was teaching multiplication. 

Sam knew he was not nearly as good with Jerry as Dean was; Dean had had much more practice, and at an earlier age. But there were things that Sam could help with more than he did now, and he pledged to himself that he would help out more. Like with shopping.

If Sam could only manage to learn Dean’s system, that is. Between Sam and Jody, and the extra long list, shopping took three carts and forever. Sam now understood why Dean usually took one of the older kids with him. Jody’s eyes bugged out at the total at the register, even with all the coupons and sale items, but her shock was magnified when the cashier asked if Sam was Dean’s brother. 

Never sure if being Dean’s brother was a good thing or not (as a teenager, he had received more than one slap to the face with the directions to pass it on to Dean, although he couldn’t see something like that happening today), Jody answered for him when he paused too long. 

The sunny smile at Jody’s response made Sam feel a bit better. “Yeah, he’s my older brother. He’s out of town right now, so that’s why we’re doing the shopping.”

“Well, one of our regular customers left a gift card here for Dean to use the next time he came in. Let me call the manager,” the cashier reached for the phone before Sam could question her further. 

Jody’s raised eyebrow got a shrug from Sam. “I have no idea, Jody.”

The manager appeared behind Jody, smiling directly at Sam. “One of our regular customers leaves a large gift every couple months for Dean and your nephews and nieces. She was so impressed that two young men would take on so many children to care for after their parents died.”

A sigh of relief and Sam felt like he could relax. “Uh, yeah. Dean mentioned her before. Although I’d rather Dean spend the gift card. Can I just pass it on to him?”

Shaking her head, the manager chuckled. “Nope. Not how she works it. Let me just run it through, and we’ll see how much is left over.” She smiled, after the register started spitting out receipts. “There’s still more on here for Dean to use when he’s in next.”

“We owe nothing?” Jody asked, staring at the manager’s outstretched hand holding the receipts like it she was a monster.

“Not a penny.” The manager started helping the cashier to bag up their purchases and put the bags back into the carts. 

Sam had trouble processing just how much was on that gift card. “There’s no catch to these gifts?”

The manager pushed the first full cart off to the side and started filling up cart number two. “No catch at all. She’s a nice person, who has more than she needs and likes to spread it around.”

“So she does this a lot?” Sam questioned.

“Yes. For a lot of people.” The cashier joined the conversation. “She used to be a foster parent, but thinks she is too old these days, so she tries to help other ways now.”

Sam bit his lip. “Please pass our thanks and appreciation on to her.”

“Of course,” the manager agreed, and reiterated that she would do so after she helped Sam and Jody load up their cars. 

Pulling in to the garage with all the groceries, Sam got a text from Cas that he and Dean were about an hour out. Cas had tried to delay the arrival as much as possible, but Dean absolutely refused to stop and see any more tourist attractions not directly on the way back to the Bunker. 

Sam opened the car door and hollered for all hands on deck, grabbing the bags that he knew contained fresh loaves for garlic bread and the frozen apple pies that needed to be put into the oven stat. 

Putting away other items with the practiced helper-children was accomplished fairly quickly, but updating supply lists took a little bit longer. Sam had Colt do that, while Rosie and Megan got the little ones cleaned and dressed for dinner. Claire and Jody made sure the food was on its way to ready while Sam puttered in the garage so that he could alert everyone of Dean’s arrival. 

Even through the thick walls of the Bunker, Sam would know the low rumble of the Impala anywhere, no matter how distant. So he was ready, his arms crossed and leaning against the wall next to the entrance to the Bunker interior, when Dean pulled in and parked. 

Cas made his way to give Sam a hug hello, and leaned close to ask if all was ready. Sam nodded and directed his attention to Dean, who was frowning at the two men. “What’s going on? Why are you out here for waiting for us? And how did you know we were on the way?” Dean rolled his eyes. “Cas!”

Cas smiled and shrugged. “I wanted to make sure that dinner would be ready so that you wouldn’t have to make it.”

“That’s my job, Cas.” Dean shut the trunk after retrieving their shared duffle bag. “I’ve had over a week off.”

“I’m going to pamper you as long as I can, Dean,” Cas tutted back. 

Shaking his head, Dean met Sam’s eyes and said, “Hey, Sammy. Looks like you survived unscathed.”

“Mostly, yeah,” Sam agreed, and followed behind Dean and Cas as they made their way through the Bunker. His forward momentum was suddenly ended.

Dean had spotted Claire and Jody, and fixed a suspicious glare on Sam. “Did ya need some help, Sammy?”

Jody punched Dean’s upper arm playfully. “Just stopped by to visit, lucky you,” she joked as she pulled Dean into a one-armed hug, which she used to take the duffle away from him before she stepped aside to let Claire have her greetings.

Claire propelled herself at Dean, forcing him to catch up and lock his legs not to be knocked down. “Hey, Pop!”

Cas smiled at her, and Dean frowned at her usual greeting. “Why can’t we just both be Dad?” he muttered. “Pop makes me sound like a grandfather.”

“When that happens,” Claire smirked evilly, “you’ll become poppy.”

Dean’s stricken face made Claire back-pedal. “It’s not an imminent thing, Dean. Just joking,” she quickly got out and could feel Dean’s body relax minutely. “Let’s grab a beer, if you need proof.”

Dean released her, grabbed Cas’s hand, and followed Claire into the kitchen. Dean didn’t notice the parade forming behind them to follow into the kitchen. He did, however, stumble his steps slightly when passing through the doorway. “What did you do to my kitchen?” he demanded.

Jerry ran forward and grabbed Dean’s hand, pulling him around to tell him everything that they had done. “Look! We got TWO dishwashers now, and the big stove, and a separate freezder from the fridgadator. And new tops! Aren’t they pretty?”

Dean looked shocked, and wasn’t talking. He looked around at everything that Jerry had pointed out, and everything else that jumped out at him. Dean went to the cabinets and started opening them up and looking at everything arranged in them. He pulled open the cabinets on the new island, and ran his fingers along the spines of his now-displayed cookbooks. 

He even opened the stove to look at the lasagna he could already smell. “Well, at least the food I left is still here.”

“You don’t like it?” Rosie asked, voice small.

That seemed to shake Dean out of his shocked stupor. “This is amazing. I love it! Its like I designed the place. How did you—“

Colt answered for Rosie. “You’ve been discussing how to redo this kitchen for almost a year now, Dean.”

“I talked about it, yeah, but this is—this is everything I wanted. How?” Dean was still amazed that he had come home to his dream kitchen. “I mean, this is—“

“I took notes. Every time you looked at stuff, talked about it, on supply runs to the restaurant store, I wrote it down,” Colt answered. “And when you saw shit you liked on line, I made a note.” 

 

“What? Why?” Dean mentally noted just how much work that was—just how much attention Colt had been paying to what Dean said. No one had ever paid that much attention to what Dean thought before, if it wasn’t hunting related, and then it was only Cas who had ever bothered. 

“We love you,” Morgan stated in that teenager you-are-so-stupid-but-I-love-you-anyway tone that all parents recognize. “You do so many things for us, we wanted to do something that would make you happy. It’s a thank you for being you.”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever been thanked for that before,” Dean joked. 

“Well, now you have,” Jody cut in. “Dinner will be ready in five minutes, so all of you need to wash up and get ready while Claire and I finish up.”

Dinner was fun, and Dean loved the new set-up. He loved it even more during clean-up. Being able to wash all the dishes for dinner in one go was great. After dinner had been wrapped up, clean up completed, and kids put to bed, Dean took out four beers and called Sam, Colt, and Cas to the table. He waited to speak until all four had taken a drink and put their beer bottle back down. 

“How much did this cost?” Dean demanded.

Colt snorted. “Don’t worry about it. It’s a gift.” 

Dean answered Colt, but stared at Sam. “A watch is a gift. A CD. Not a friggin’ brand new, industrial kitchen. How much did this cost?” 

Cas actually interrupted before Dean got started on a long rant, which Cas could see on the horizon. “What does it matter?”

Dean chugged half his beer and slammed it down. Meeting each man’s eyes, he returned to look at Sam. “Was this our money, or funny money? I thought we were trying to go straight. If it was ours…this was a really big purchase to make without any discussion.”

“Technically, discussion is conversation, and you’ve been talking forever about what you wish you could do to the kitchen, Dean,” Colt smirked. “And since you wouldn’t let me use any of my pool winnings for bills, I’ve managed to actually save quite a lot. Morgan with poker, too.”

“And 2/3rds of the business partners decided we have enough saved to make up the difference,” Sam added, humor at being able to justifiably defy his brother’s interpretation.

“You can’t do that!” Dean sputtered.

“Yes, we can,” Cas said. “And we already did. You didn’t want a honeymoon, which everyone was begging you to take. This is the result, Dean. Be happy with it.”

Dean grumblings got quieter with more beer, and were silenced with another helping of apple pie. Colt took advantage and left before Dean could build up another head of steam, and Cas wanted to revel in their memory foam for a bit, so shortly it was just Dean and Sam left at the table. 

The air was thick, as the brothers sat and nursed their last beer for the night. This past week had brought up a lot of the past for Sam, and with the time and distance of age, he really felt the need to let Dean know that Sam knew what Dean had done for him over the years. 

“You always took care of me, Dean, and I appreciated it, intellectually. I knew it was hard to take care of your little brother when you weren’t even an adult yet yourself. Stepping in just for this week…getting to see just how much work it is to take care of kids…thank you.”

The corner of Dean’s mouth turned up a tick. “It was easier for just two of us, Sam.”

“And you were a lot younger with no experience and less money, so I doubt in reality it was easier,” Sam argued back. He could tell Dean was headed for self-deprecation and minimized the monumental task Dean had accomplished in raising Sam. 

Dean acknowledged with a slight shrug of his shoulders, but not verbally. “You’re my little brother. You do what you have to for family.” 

Sam nodded, but raised an eyebrow. “What else did you have to do to take are of me, Dean? What don’t I know that I should know?”

Dean raises his own eyebrow, but he is not divulging that information. Sam doesn’t need to know details about back alleys and skipping meals. “I was good at 5 finger discounts, and really great at charming my way out of trouble, usually. I didn’t hold anyone up or anything like that.”

When Sam didn’t say anything else, Dean filled in the silence. “Sometimes I’d help an older lady with her grocery bags to her car and maybe the bread and egg bag didn’t actually make it into her car.—just ones with really nice clothes and cars, though. I didn’t want to take from someone who really needed it.”

It wasn’t a full-on bitch face, but Sam winced a little.

“Or run errands for an old lady to the super market, steal the stuff so I could keep the money,” Dean continued as he pushed his beer bottle around the ring of condensation on the tabletop. “I was a rotten little shit.” 

Sam pushed a little harder. “The girl toys that Christmas. You stole them, obviously.” 

“I did most years,” Dean chuckled, sipping his beer.

“I didn’t realize that,” Sam admitted. “I thought you bought those presents, up until the Barbie year, at least.”

That brought out a full smile and hearty laugh. “Just lucky with what I stole that year.”

Sam lost his slight smile. “I’m sorry you had to steal another kid’s Christmas for me.”

Dean shook his head in the negative. “I never took more than a present or two, and never from anyone who didn’t have a bunch of presents under their tree, Sammy.” Dean sat back in his seat and studied his beer bottle. 

“You worked harder at taking care of me than Dad ever did. You never, ever, got to take care of yourself. I always came first. I know that now, as an adult, even though I had no clue back then. I see you doing for these kids, too, and these kids can see it more clearly than I ever did. They know how much you do for them every single day, how hard you work to give them what you didn’t have…” Sam sighed deeply, and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Redoing the kitchen—that was the way I could get you to take care of yourself a little while you take care of us,” Sam continued as Dean started looking sour again. “Newer appliances work better, easier. You have enough space now, so you don’t have to use a hotplate and a Crock Pot with the stove to make enough for a meal. And I know you would have never agreed to this if we had asked you, because you don’t really ask for things for yourself. That’s why the kids wanted to do this. Because it’s thank you in a way that you might accept and acknowledge instead of brushing it off like anyone would do what you do.” 

Dean shrugged, the furrows in his face deepening. He knew he wasn’t anyone special, and didn’t do anything someone else in his place would do. “Can we agree to disagree, and I’ll just thank the kids and appreciate their present.”

“You are the Righteous Man, Dean,” Cas added, lowly, from the shadows where he suddenly lurked. “You will always be the Righteous Man, in your thoughts and actions. In your love.”

Pink coloring the tips of his ears and across his freckled cheeks, Dean rolled his eyes. “Okay, this conversation is over. I’m heading to bed.” Depositing his beer bottle in the new big bright blue recycling bin stacked against the wall, Dean took Cas’s hand in his and pulled his husband back towards their room. “G’night, Sam.” 

After a pause, Sam heard, “And thank you,” tossed back over Dean’s shoulder. 

Smiling, Sam sat and finished his beer before heading off the bed himself.


End file.
